Big Days
by Alohaemora
Summary: Lord Voldemort's ascendancy is growing stronger by the day. Sixteen-year-old Sirius Black is disgusted by his family's role in the war, but Severus Snape wants nothing more than to join the Death Eaters. December 1975. The rocky road to Sirius Black's departure from Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
1. The Muggle Massacre

18 December 1975

Sirius looked up from his parchment as Peter groaned loudly.

"I'm tired of this," whined Peter, flicking a piece of lint off of his cloak and rolling over onto his back to stare up at the dormitory's high ceilings. "McGonagall's gone mad, assigning us all of these essays right before the holidays."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's O.W.L. year, Wormtail, what did you expect?" he scoffed, flinging down his own quill and stretching backwards onto his mattress. "Besides, they're on the properties of Animagi. Should be pretty easy for you, now, don't you think?"

After more than a year of unsuccessful attempts, Sirius, Peter, and James had finally all mastered the Animagus transformation in September.

Peter wrinkled his nose. "They're still essays," he complained. He paused, biting lip, and gazed across the room towards where Remus was tucked under the covers of his four-poster bed, reading quietly. "Moony—"

"No," Remus interrupted shortly.

"But—"

" _No_."

"But I—"

"No, I will _not_ write your bloody essay for you, Wormtail, so don't bother."

Peter stuck out his lower lip, but he fell tactfully silent. Sirius, taking pity on him, began in a placating voice, "Moony, he didn't mean to—"

But that was as far as Sirius got, for the very next instant, Remus vaulted out of his bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. A few moments later, Sirius heard the muffled sounds of his friend retching over the toilet bowl.

"Poor bloke," sighed Sirius, and Peter nodded fervently.

"We've got to take him down to the Hospital Wing," Peter said, frowning at the closed bathroom door. "The moon'll be up soon."

Before Sirius could answer, the dormitory door swung open and James stepped inside, sporting a very grim expression. Tossing his cloak onto his bed, he stalked up to Sirius and held up a rumpled copy of the _Evening Prophet_.

 **FIFTEEN MUGGLES MURDERED IN SOUTH WEST ENGLAND MASSACRE**

Sirius swore loudly, sitting up and snatching the paper away from his friend. Heart beating violently in his chest, Sirius cleared his throat and began to read the article aloud.

" _This afternoon, the Ministry of Magic received word that the Dark Mark had been cast over a Muggle primary school in Bristol. The bodies of thirteen children and two teachers were later recovered by a group of Aurors, of which included the esteemed head of office, Alastor Moody_ …"

"That's horrible," breathed Peter, eyes wide, as he gazed up at a very somber-looking James.

"My uncle must be going mental at the Ministry," explained James, shaking his head. "The Law Enforcement office is being sent loads of threats from all over the country."

"… _Memory-modifying charms were performed on all Muggle witnesses, but not before they were interrogated by the group of Aurors. Mr. Moody declined to comment on any leads, but his second-in-command, Rufus Scrimgeour, consented to saying a few words_ …"

"Your uncle's getting threats?" squeaked Peter, plainly appalled by the very prospect. "Why would people—?"

"They're scared, Wormtail," James said impatiently. "Fifteen people were just murdered—at a school!" He paused. " _We're_ at a school!"

"B-but this is Hogwarts!" cried Peter, chin trembling. "And we've got Dumbledore!"

James's expression softened slightly. "Yeah…yeah, I suppose…"

" _'_ … _All fifteen bodies showed unmistakable signs of Dark Magic,' Mr. Scrimgeour said. 'This is undoubtedly the work of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers, or as they've come to be known, Death Eaters…'_ "

"Where's Moony?" James asked suddenly, glancing around the bedroom. "He ought to be heading over to the Hospital Wing."

"Bathroom," Peter said glumly, sinking backwards onto his pillows. "He's been in there for a while, now. Should we check on him?"

"Leave him," sighed James tiredly. "He always gets ill before the moon."

"… _The identities of the involved Death Eaters were not disclosed by the Auror Office, but all evidence uncovered by the_ Prophet _to date appears to point to a recurring group of unknown individuals. On the behalf of the Ministry, Mr. Scrimgeour urges the Wizarding community to take all possible safety precautions during these trying times. Exclusive photographs from the crime scene have been included on page thirteen_ ," finished Sirius at last. Frowning down at the newspaper in his hands, Sirius flipped through the pages until he reached page thirteen. He smoothed it out.

"There you are," said James, sounding relieved, as the bathroom door finally swung open, admitting a pale-faced Remus Lupin. "Are you all right?"

"Never better," said Remus feebly, stumbling back towards his bed. Immediately, James stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"We're taking you to the Hospital Wing," he told Remus firmly. "You can't stay holed up in here any longer."

"'S'only nine," Remus mumbled, swaying slightly; James threw out an arm to steady him. "I haven't—my essays—"

"I don't think McGonagall will mind if you submit them late," Peter piped up, climbing to his feet, and James nodded.

With a jerky, noncommittal shrug, Remus followed James—who had already extracted his Invisibility Cloak from his trunk—and Peter towards the dormitory stairs. At the door, James glanced over his shoulder at Sirius, frowning. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.

But Sirius wasn't listening. His eyes were transfixed by the large, chaotic photograph before him. In it, Alastor Moody and Rufus Scrimgeour were deep in conversation by the playground of the Muggle primary school, surrounded by a gaggle of Healers and fellow-Aurors, all of whom were rushing about, tending to severely wounded victims and modifying memories. The Dark Mark was glowing luminously in the sky above them.

"Padfoot?"

Sirius jumped, looking up. James, Remus, and Peter were standing side-by-side near the dormitory entrance, all sporting looks of mingled concern and confusion.

"Oh—yeah, I'm coming," he said numbly, and his voice sounded oddly far away, even to himself.

With one last look at the photograph, Sirius quickly folded up the _Prophet_ and set it aside. Then, he hopped to his feet and followed his friends out of the dormitory, his heart hammering against his chest.

* * *

Severus Snape looked up from his nearly-completed Transfiguration essay, his expression sour. Achilles Wilkes and Jasper Avery were both slumped stupidly across their respective beds. Avery had begun to snore loudly, and an unattractive dollop of drool was dangling from the edge of Wilkes's mouth. Severus gazed at it for a moment, wrinkling his nose. Then, with a disparaging sigh, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his essay.

It had been a long, difficult day of classes, and to top it off, _James Potter_ had received the top mark in their most recent Transfiguration practical. Professor McGonagall had announced the rankings to the Slytherins at the end of their lesson; Severus's lip curled at the memory.

Of course, Potter had lost all of the points _and_ gained a detention later that evening, for attempting a Stinging Hex on Severus in the Entrance Hall before dinner. But the idea of Potter— _Potter_ , of all people—achieving higher marks than Severus on a practical was still far too embarrassing a reality. Severus was determined to fare better on the essays that McGonagall had assigned them.

"What's the matter with you?"

Severus jumped, glancing towards the door of the dormitory. His third roommate, Ignus Mulciber, had just entered the room, holding a broomstick under one arm and a copy of the _Evening Prophet_ in the other. His Prefect badge glittered on his robes.

"What are you talking about?" Severus asked stiffly.

"You were glaring at your essay," Mulciber informed him, smirking slightly as he threw his broomstick under his bed. "It's because Potter beat you in Transfiguration again, isn't it?"

Severus scowled. "By half a percent," he snapped, turning back to his essay. " _And_ he tried to hex me in the Entrance Hall before dinner, not that you were around to do anything about it."

Mulciber snorted. "You're nearly sixteen years old," he said, shaking his head. "Grow a backbone, will you?"

Severus's temper flared, but he forced himself to bite back the nasty retort that had sprung to his lips. Privately, he had always liked Mulciber least out of his three roommates, for obvious reasons. Mulciber often slyly challenged Severus's loyalty to Slytherin house, disapproving heavily and openly of Severus's friendship with Lily Evans, a Muggle-born Gryffindor.

But unfortunately, Mulciber was the unspoken leader of their fifth year Slytherin posse; Wilkes and Avery generally consented to his schemes without question. And Severus had realized, quite early on, that it made far more sense to remain on friendly terms with his three roommates than to not.

Now, Mulciber seemed to realize that he had offended Severus, for he rolled his eyes.

"Relax, Snape," he said bracingly. "We'll get him back for it. Filthy blood traitors, the Potters are," he added in great distaste. "My grandfather always says that Fleamont Potter is a foolish, little imbecile." He paused, gray eyes flashing. "Clearly, his son takes after him."

Severus snickered, and Mulciber puffed out his chest, looking pleased with himself. "Besides," Mulciber continued knowledgeably, "Teachers always favor the Gryffindors, don't they? I mean, when was the last time Dumbledore picked a Slytherin for Head Boy? Not since Rodolphus Lestrange, himself, and that was seven years ago."

Severus nodded. Mulciber was absolutely right.

"Speaking of the Lestranges," Mulciber grinned suddenly. "Have you seen the front page of this?" He held up the copy of the _Prophet_.

Severus shook his head, frowning, and Mulciber tossed the paper to him.

"Wow," Severus breathed, looking up and meeting Mulciber's gaze, several moments later. "He's getting stronger every day."

"Of course he is," Mulciber said with an arrogant smile. "My father was among the very first Death Eaters before he died, you know. And the Lestranges are old friends of the family—they're the Dark Lord's favorites, apparently. They were responsible for the job in Bristol today."

There was a lingering pause, as both Severus and Mulciber gazed intently at each other. Then, heart racing, Severus turned back down to stare at the front page of the _Prophet_ , feeling a pang of longing.

Suddenly— "I've been writing to Lucius Malfoy," Mulciber said quietly.

Severus sat bolt upright; a thrill of excitement raced down the nape of his neck. Lucius Malfoy had been a Prefect during Severus's first two years of Hogwarts, and he had always been good to Severus. But what was more, Severus knew for a fact that Lucius had intended to join the Dark Lord upon graduation. _Had he succeeded?_

"You've been what?" Severus whispered, eyes wide.

"I've been in touch with Lucius," Mulciber nodded importantly. "He told me…" Mulciber hesitated, cocking his head to the side—as though contemplating whether or not Severus was worthy of the knowledge that he was about to unveil. Eventually deeming him worthy, apparently, Mulciber cleared his throat pointedly, and revealed, "He told me that the Dark Lord is still recruiting."

Severus's mouth went dry; he sat up even straighter. "And what did you tell him?" he asked hoarsely. "What did you tell Lucius?"

Mulciber smirked, plainly enjoying himself. "I told him," he said calmly, "that there are four Slytherin fifth years at Hogwarts who are as well-versed in the Dark Arts as can be, and who have sympathized with the Dark Lord's regime since they were children. I told him that it would be nothing short of the greatest honor to begin serving the Dark Lord upon graduation."

Severus stared at Mulciber, his heart pounding. Then, his face split into a broad grin, which Mulciber returned.

"Lucius awaits your owl," Mulciber told him.

* * *

"All right, I'm going inside," Remus said faintly, clutching the brass doorknob of the Hospital Wing. His face was very pale. "I'll be at the shack in twenty minutes. Stay under the cloak, don't be seen on the grounds, and make sure that you—"

"Moony, we _know_ ," James interrupted, rolling his eyes at Remus. He turned and looked at Sirius in amusement. "Honestly, you'd think this was our first time, the way he's talking."

Sirius gave him a small smile. James frowned at him; his best friend had been oddly quiet on the entire trek down to the third floor from Gryffindor Tower.

"This is only your fourth time," Remus reminded, gazing seriously at James. "And as I've said a million times, you're risking your _lives_ by doing this. This doesn't suddenly make you all experts—"

"Moony, shut up and go inside," James said firmly. "We're not going to let you spend the full moons alone ever again—I thought we'd made that clear in September."

Remus opened and closed his mouth several times, his eyes wide. Then, at long last, he gave a slightly twitchy nod. "Thanks," he mumbled, before opening the door and slipping inside.

James shook his head, grinning, before he turned and faced Peter and Sirius. "Ready?" he asked them, pulling his Invisibility Cloak out from within his robes and shaking it out. Peter gave an eager grin, while Sirius simply nodded. James gazed at him.

"Padfoot, are you—?"

"I'm fine, James," Sirius said curtly, avoiding James's eyes. "Let's get going."

James stared at him for another moment. Then, slowly, he pulled the cloak up and draped it over the three of them, and they set off down the corridor and towards the marble staircase in silence. They were on the second floor landing, when, suddenly, Sirius gasped and swore under his breath. James glanced over his shoulder.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"It's my wand," Sirius hissed back. "I've left it in the dorm."

Peter's eyes widened. "Are you sure—?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Sirius said impatiently. "I've got to go back and get it."

James bit his lip. "It's nearly curfew. I think we should all go under the cloak—"

"No," Sirius said quickly, and James frowned. "I—I'll go by myself. Wait for me in the Entrance Hall."

"But—Padfoot, if you're caught—"

"I won't be caught," Sirius said firmly. Then, without another word, he ducked out of the cloak and began hurrying down the corridor, away from his friends.

James looked at Peter, eyebrows raised. Peter shrugged, frowning after Sirius's retreating figure.

* * *

Sirius stumbled up the Owlery staircase, his stomach churning. He hadn't actually left his wand in Gryffindor Tower. He hated lying to his friends—it wasn't something that he did often—but at the moment, even if just for a few minutes, he needed to be alone with his thoughts.

 _Fifteen Muggles had been murdered in broad daylight_. The headline was repulsive, despicable, utterly horrific. And yet, it was something that Sirius's parents—and grandparents, and aunts, and uncles, and cousins, and even brother—had probably rejoiced in seeing in the paper. Fear bubbled in the pit of Sirius's stomach. Voldemort's supporters were eerily anonymous—and Sirius couldn't help but wonder whether his family was, somewhow, involved in the cause. After all, wasn't this pure-blood mania precisely what his parents had been preaching to Sirius and his brother for the last decade-and-a-half?

Soundlessly, Sirius slipped into the dome-shaped Owlery, careful to avoid stepping on the skeletons of long-forgotten rodents as he did so. It was five minutes until curfew and Sirius knew—from experience, of course—that Argus Filch had a particular fondness for haunting the Owlery at night.

" _Lumos_ ," Sirius whispered, and his wand-tip flared, filling the expanse with warm, white light.

He found his gray screech owl perched on a bale of hay in the far left corner of the circular tower, gnawing on a dead rat. Upon spotting him, Felix let out an excited hoot and soared off of his perch to land on Sirius's shoulder.

"Hi, Felix," Sirius said quietly, stroking the owl's feathers.

Felix gave a soft hoot and gently nibbled Sirius's ear.

Sighing heavily, Sirius walked to a nearby window and stared down at the grounds. _Was it really possible?_ Was his family so despicable that they would consort with the likes of Voldemort? Sirius didn't want to believe it possible, but—

"You!"

Sirius whirled around. Felix gave a startled hoot and fluttered off of Sirius's shoulder.

Severus Snape was standing in the Owlery door frame, holding an envelope and sporting a murderous expression.

Sirius scowled. "Writing to your mummy?" he asked nastily. "Begging for a fresh set of underpants, are you, Snivelly? You must've soiled all of yours, by now."

Snape's sallow cheeks flushed with color. Immediately, he plunged his hand into his robes and drew his wand, leveling it with Sirius's chest.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Are you going to curse me in the middle of the Owlery?" he asked scathingly.

Snape's hand twitched on his wand. "I could," he spat, glaring at Sirius. "You've got no idea what I'm capable of."

Sirius snorted derisively. "Well, as much as I'd love to stay and find out, I've got better things to do." Shaking his head, he stalked around Snape, towards the Owlery entrance.

He had his hand around the doorknob when Snape spoke again.

"I read all about your cousin's achievements in the paper today, Black," Snape said smoothly. "You must be so proud."

Sirius froze. Then, very, very slowly, he turned back around. There was a satisfied gleam in Snape's eyes.

"What did you just say?" Sirius asked in a low voice, stepping towards him.

"You know, for someone who claims to hate the Dark Arts as much as you do, your family seems to be quite— _ah_ —involved in their use," Snape continued silkily.

Sirius glared at Snape. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Snape raised his eyebrows, lips twisting into an amused smile. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Sirius growled, his anger rising dangerously.

Snape's smirk became postively infuriating. "Your dear old cousin and her husband attacked a Muggle school today," he drawled.

Sirius's stomach dropped like a stone. _His cousin_ …there was only one person to whom Snape could be referring, and the very thought sent a chill down Sirius's spine. Surely, it wasn't true…surely, Snape was simply stirring trouble…

"You're lying," Sirius hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Snape leered, his eyes glittering madly. "I'm not _lying_ , Black. I happen to be well-informed."

Sirius's hands curled into fists. "You can't wait to join, can you?" he snarled, taking a menacing step towards Snape. "You and your stupid little Slytherin gang. I heard about what Mulciber tried to do to Mary Macdonald last week. That was a nasty trick to play."

Snape merely shrugged, as he attached his envelope to a school owl. Then, he turned back around to face Sirius. "Best hope it's not you next, Black," he sneered, eyes glinting.

Blood rushed to Sirius's head. He gripped his wand tightly, quite ready to slash it through the air and hex Severus Snape into the next century. But then, suddenly, he caught sight of the silhouette of the moon in the window over Snape's shoulder, and he froze.

The idea struck him like lightning.

Sirius cleared his throat pointedly, nodding in the direction of the moon. "It's a full moon tonight," he said casually.

Snape's beady black eyes latched onto Sirius's. He had suddenly tensed, like a dog on a scent. "What?"

"It's the full moon," Sirius repeated conversationally. "I can see it behind the Whomping Willow." He paused, forcing his expression into one of innocent contemplation. "You know, I've always wondered where you'd end up if you touched that small knot near the base of the Whomping Willow and climbed in through the secret tunnel near the roots…" he trailed off, pretending to frown thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose some things are better left undiscovered."

Snape's entire body had gone rigid. Eyes as wide as saucers, he staggered past Sirius, flung open the door to the Owlery, and sprinted down the staircase.

"Goodnight, Snivellus," Sirius called loftily after him.

He waited for Snape's footsteps to disappear completely before he turned back around to face the Owlery. Hastening to where Felix was resting on the windowsill, Sirius yanked out a spare scrap of parchment from his robes, as well as an inkpot and an old quill. Hunching over the parchment, Sirius dipped his quill in ink.

 _Did you see the article in the Evening Prophet about the Bristol massacre?  
I heard a rumor your sister was involved.  
_ _—S_ _  
_

Sirius read through the letter multiple times, ensuring that it was as vague as it could possibly be. Then, quietly, Sirius beckoned Felix down from his perch and found a spare piece of twine. Deftly tying the letter to Felix's ankle, he whispered, "Take this to Meda. If anyone tries to intercept you, forget the letter and come straight back to me. Got it?"

Felix hooted understandingly, nipping at Sirius's fingers before turning and soaring out of the tower with a _whoosh_. Sirius watched him for a long while, until he was nothing but a grayish speck in the distance. Then, swallowing heavily, Sirius backed away from the window.

" _Nox_."

* * *

Author's Note:

The most recent updates to this story have been done to distribute the story across several chapters and change a few points. Nothing dramatic, plotwise. Enjoy!

Ari


	2. A Narrow Escape

"Where the hell is he?" James whispered angrily. "Remus has been alone in there for half-an-hour."

He and Peter were crouched in a dark corner of the Entrance Hall, tucked safely out of sight under the Invisibility Cloak. They had been waiting nearly thirty minutes for Sirius to make an appearance.

Peter bit his lip, looking worried. He glanced down at his wristwatch. "Maybe we should go without him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Wormtail," James snapped. "You know I can't handle Moony by myself."

Peter sighed, his head drooping slightly. "I wish I were as big an animal as you and Padfoot," he mumbled despondently, and James felt a pang of sympathy.

"Don't say that," he said warmly. "Your size has a lot of advant—"

"Prongs? Wormtail? Are you down here?"

Both James and Peter whipped their heads around. Sirius was tiptoeing down the marble staircase.

Releasing a sigh of relief, James whisked the cloak off of his and Peter's hunched forms.

"We thought Filch caught you," James admonished, climbing to his feet with Peter in tow. "What took you so long?"

Sirius's expression became sour, as the three of them turned to make their way out of the large double doors and into the cold, biting December air. Snow crunched beneath their feet. "I ran into Snivellus," he muttered.

"Ha!" James snorted, shaking his head. "What's the greasy little git doing out of bed after curfew?" he asked contemptuously.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Sticking his big, slimy nose where it doesn't belong, as usual," he said darkly.

Peter snickered appreciatively, but James glanced sideways at Sirius, frowning. "What d'you mean?"

Sirius was quiet for a moment. Then— "He started harping on about that article in the _Prophet_ ," he said in a low voice. He paused, looking up and caught James's eye. "He told me that…that Bellatrix was involved."

James's mouth fell open. "Your _cousin?_ " he gasped. "You're kidding!"

"Come on, Prongs, haven't I told you enough about my family for that to be completely believable?" Sirius asked testily.

James blinked, feeling a new rush of sympathy for Sirius. "Right," he said softly. Then, he snapped his head up, frowning. "Hang on. How the hell does Snape know about it?"

Sirius's expression was indifferent, but five years of staunch friendship had taught James better than to disregard the cold fury in his friend's eyes. "It's obvious, isn't it?" Sirius revealed offhandedly. "He can't _wait_ to put his Dark Arts knowledge to good use—he'll be going exactly the same way as dear Bellatrix after graduating, James, mark my words. He's probably already in contact with them." Sirius paused, eyes glinting. "He told me I'd be getting the same treatment as Mary Macdonald, any day now."

James swore loudly, and Peter let out a nervous squeak, looking around to ensure no one had heard. They were halfway across the grounds, now. The Whomping Willow was just visible through the thick winter fog.

"Don't worry, Padfoot," James said angrily. "We'll get him back with a jinx so strong, he won't be able to walk straight."

But for the first time, Sirius smirked, shaking his head. "It's all right. I got there first."

James grinned. "What did you do?"

Sirius shook his head again, still smiling smugly. "Better than any hex," he said, his voice trembling slightly; James had the distinct impression that Sirius had been waiting very patiently to reveal this information. "I sent him to the Whomping Willow. He's going to get the scare of his life."

It took several, long seconds for the absurdity of this revelation to sink in for James. But when he finally understood what Sirius had said, the horror that shot through him was so staggering that he stumbled and nearly fell, face-first, onto the snowy ground.

"YOU DID _WHAT?_ " he bellowed in a strangled voice. His heart was hammering so heavily against his chest that he could barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears.

Peter jumped a foot in the air and let out another squeak of terror, glancing around again for possible witnesses. But James had eyes only for Sirius—Padfoot—his best friend—his brother, almost. His brother, who had just sentenced another student to death.

Sirius looked half-dumbfounded, half-afraid by the look on James's face. "Prongs?" he asked, eyes widening.

"You— _sent_ —" James broke off, turning abruptly to stare in the direction of the Whomping Willow. The branches had suddenly immobilized. And James was absolutely certain that he had just seen a flurry of black disappear into the roots.

Panic rose in his throat like bile. Without thinking, without planning it—without even a moment's hesitation—James leaped into the air, transforming into a stag before his feet had hit the ground. And in an instant, he was off, galloping across the grounds, towards the Whomping Willow. He ignored Sirius's and Peter's cries of alarm, he ignored the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head…

Because James Potter was many things…an entertainer…a reckless teenager…and—yes, he would be the first to admit—a bit of a bully.

But he was not—nor would he ever be—an accessory to murder.

* * *

The Whomping Willow. The _Whomping Willow_.

It was ingenious—ingenious, but so very simple that Severus was amazed that he had never thought of it, himself. Professor Dumbledore had even mentioned, in his start-of-term speech, that the tree had only been planted on the castle grounds the year Severus had arrived at Hogwarts…

…The year Remus Lupin had arrived at Hogwarts, Severus corrected himself, sneering slightly.

Shaking the sleeve of his robes, where a prickly spider had latched onto it, Severus continued to crawl along through the earthy passageway. It was very long and narrow, and Severus began to wonder where exactly it led. Perhaps into the Scotland mountainside, somewhere where it would be safe for Lupin to transform. Severus's lip curled. _Transform_ …into the monster that he was…

Then, rather unexpectedly, the tunnel began to rise. Severus frowned, scurrying forward. Had he reached the end already?

Dim light was shining through a small hole in the low, muddy ceiling. Heart pounding, Severus ran towards it and looked through.

It was a room—a very dirty, disorganized room. Whitewash was peeling from the walls, every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it, and every single window was boarded up. It appeared to be a shack of some sort.

Suddenly, Severus heard a noise. He froze. Then, it came again, unmistakable this time—a muffled growling, accompanied by a distant howl. A shiver of trepidation shot down Severus's spine. _He was right_ , he had known it all along—Remus Lupin was a werewolf, and Severus was about to oust him. Precious Potter and his gang of halfwits would soon be losing a member…

Grinning, Severus grabbed onto a nearby tuft of weeds and pushed himself through the hole in the ceiling, looking around. The room was deserted, but a door to his right stood open, leading into a shadowy corridor with a crumbling staircase. Heart racing, Severus flew through the doorway and began to tiptoe up the stairs.

On the landing, there were three more doors. Two of the doors were open, and the rooms beyond them were dark. But one door was closed, and Severus was drawn towards it like a moth to a flame. He could hear the scratching and snarling more clearly than ever…

Trembling with anticipation, Severus drew his wand and pointed it at the decaying brass doorknob. " _Alohomora_ ," he whispered.

There was a loud _click_. Then, slowly, the door creaked swung open.

Severus gasped.

An enormous, gray wolf was crouched in the middle of the room, glowering hungrily at Severus through its large, yellow eyes. And before Severus could begin to understand what was happening, the creature reared its large, ugly head and charged forward, snarling. And suddenly, Severus was paralyzed with fear—his feet refused to move, they were glued to the floor—this was the end— _he was going to die_ —

"NO!"

There was a loud BANG, and Severus was flung backwards with such force that he hit his head on the opposite wall and crumpled to the floor. Head spinning and body quaking uncontrollably, he scrambled to his feet, blinking around in terror.

Standing in front of him, with his wand drawn and his eyes flashing with anger, was none other than James Potter.

"You're the biggest idiot I've ever known," Potter said harshly, seizing Severus by the scruff of his robes and dragging him towards the staircase. "C'mon—we're getting out of here."

And Severus was so dumbfounded, so aghast, so utterly sickened by what he had just seen that he barely protested as his least favorite classmate began to force him roughly down a flight of stairs. Still trembling vigorously from head-to-toe, Severus cast a backward glance in the direction of the door—which was shut tightly again, but shaking rather ominously on its hinges.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting, bloodcurdling howl ripped through the still December air, causing the hair on the back of Severus's neck to stand on end. He turned abruptly away from the quivering door and broke into a run, Potter at his heels.

* * *

Gasping for air, James tumbled out of the trunk of the Whomping Willow and fell flat on his back, several yards away. Coughing and spluttering, he climbed to his feet and looked around. Snape was kneeling on the snow-covered ground, hunched over a nearby hedge, vomiting violently.

As James approached him, Snape leaped unsteadily to his feet and pulled out his wand, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his cloak and shivering. " _Don't_ come near—"

"WHAT THE _BLOODY HELL_ IS WRONG WITH YOU?" James roared.

Snape dropped his wand.

"I—"

" _You could have died!_ " James continued angrily. "You're damn lucky I was there to save your neck, you slimy little greaseball!"

In an instant, Snape seemed to regain himself; his cheeks flushed. " _Lucky_?" he spat, picking up his wand and retraining it on James. "Likely story! You and Black planned this! If anyone needs saving tonight, I think it's _Lupin_."

For the first time, James felt a chill of fear. He stiffened, eyes widening ever-so-slightly—an action that Snape didn't miss. His expression grew nasty.

"I think it would be prudent—to everyone's safety, of course—that I alert the student body to Lupin's condition," Snape continued spitefully, eyes flashing; James's breathing became very shallow. "Wouldn't you agree, Potter?"

James's ears were ringing again. "No," he said in a hollow voice. "No—Snape, even _you_ wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what?" Snape interrupted venomously, taking a step closer to James, wand still pointed at his chest. "Wouldn't act in the best interests of the school? Actually, Potter, believe it or not—"

"Mr. Snape, kindly lower your wand."

James and Snape wheeled around simultaneously. Professor Dumbledore was striding down the grassy slope towards them. Even through the darkness, the piercing blue behind the familiar half-moon spectacles was unmistakable. And although the headmaster wasn't smiling, James found that he had never been more comforted by the sight of him. Relief seeped through him.

"Professor," he gasped, rushing forward. "I can exp—"

"No explanation is necessary, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore interrupted calmly, considering him searchingly over his spectacles. "Mr. Black came to his senses not long after you went looking for Mr. Snape."

James blinked, nodding mutely, and was filled with a sudden rush of fury towards Sirius—whose fault it was that a student had nearly died on Dumbledore's watch, whose fault it was that Remus was spending his first full moon alone in four months, whose fault it was that Remus's secret had very nearly become idle gossip.

Dumbledore watched James closely for another moment. Then, clearing his throat, he turned to Snape, who was looking utterly dumbstruck.

"Mr. Snape, you will be joining Mr. Potter and me in my office for a chat," Dumbledore said evenly. "Mr. Black and Mr. Pettigrew are already there with Professors McGonagall and Slughorn, awaiting our arrival. Come along."

And with that, he turned and began striding back in the direction of the castle, leaving James and Snape to straggle along in his wake.


	3. Regret and Remorse

20 December 1975

For most students, the first Saturday of the holidays was one like any other. After enjoying a quick breakfast in the Great Hall, they piled into the usual horseless carriages, chattering merrily among themselves as they set off for Hogsmeade Station.

For Sirius Black, however, this particular Saturday marked the start of what was sure to be the worst two weeks of his life.

Normally, Sirius spent his Christmas holidays in one of two places—in the Hogwarts castle, itself, or at the Potters' manor home in Godric's Hollow. Mr. and Mrs. Potter treated Sirius like a second son, and in recent years, it had become something of an unspoken agreement that Sirius would accompany James home from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on the third week of December. No one knew the horrific realities of Sirius's family quite like James did, and although Sirius was certain that James had revealed some of the lesser details to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Potter had always been tactful enough not to pry.

But this Christmas, Sirius would be returning to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place for his cousin Narcissa's wedding. Three weeks earlier, Sirius had been intent on dodging the event, altogether, but his younger brother had somehow gotten wind of his plans and had alerted their mother at once. She had then sent Sirius a very long and threatening Howler that had exploded in the boys' dormitory and echoed through the walls, shaking Gryffindor tower to its core.

So, grudgingly, Sirius had packed his trunk the previous night and sullenly made his way out of the Entrance Hall on Saturday morning to await a carriage.

By himself.

Because his three best friends in the entire world weren't speaking to him.

Rumors that James Potter had saved Severus Snape from a monster in the Whomping Willow had spread like wildfire through the corridors of Hogwarts. And although Sirius had initially felt grateful that no one seemed to know or care exactly _why_ James's heroic actions had been necessary, or _why_ Sirius had received a month's detention from the headmaster himself, the anguished look on Remus's face on Friday morning—after James had filled him in—had hurt Sirius more than any whisper or rumor about him could ever.

 _"How could you?" Remus demanded in a strangled whisper. "_ _How_ could _you?_ _How could you do that to Snape? How could you do that to_ me? _"_

 _It was Friday afternoon and Sirius and Remus were standing a few feet apart on a deserted first floor alcove, where Sirius had cornered Remus on his way up to Gryffindor Tower from the Hospital Wing._

 _"_ _I-I—_ _I wasn't think—!"_

 _"And you think that makes it all right?" Remus interrupted angrily, drawing himself to his full height and glaring at Sirius with such revulsion that Sirius would not have believed it possible of his friend had he not seen it for himself. "You think that excuses what you did?"_

 _"No!" Sirius exclaimed at once. "But—Moony, he insulted me! He talked about my family in front of me, like it's some big joke! I was just trying to get back—!"_

 _"Don't you dare," Remus said in a low voice. "Don't you_ dare _suggest that lycanthropy is a justifiable punishment—for_ anything _."_

 _Sirius swallowed his words, gazing at Remus in horror. "Moony, that's not what I—"_

 _"Don't call me that right now, Sirius," Remus interrupted sharply. "I can't listen to it right now."_

 _Sirius's eyes widened. It was several, tense moments before he spoke again. "R-Remus—"_

 _"I could have killed him."_

 _The words hit Sirius like a jinx. He found himself suddenly winded, unable to breathe; something had hardened—closed off—in Remus's expression._

 _Sirius stared at his friend, and an enormous, dizzying wave of remorse swept over him._

 _"Can you please forgive me?" he asked desperately._

 _Remus stiffened. He gazed back at Sirius for a long while, his expression unreadable._

 _Then, finally— "Yes," he said quietly._

 _And somehow, the fact that Remus could forgive him for his stupidity made Sirius feel far worse than if he couldn't._

But Sirius had walked away from the conversation with a glimmer of hope. There was a chance—slim and wild though it was, there was a chance. There was a chance for his friendship with Remus—a chance that it could be salvaged.

In higher spirits than he had been all day, Sirius had proceeded to make his way back to Gryffindor tower later that evening to pack his trunk. And it was then and there that Sirius had discovered that, where Peter had been sympathetic and Remus had been devastated, James on the other hand was absolutely furious.

 _"Prongs, can I borrow your owl to send something to my parents?" Sirius asked, as he finished scrawling out a final, bitter sentence in a letter to his parents; they had written to remind him to get on the train the next morning. "Felix is out delivering a letter," he explained, reading through the parchment once more._

 _There was a pregnant silence._

 _Sirius looked up, frowning. "Prongs?"_

 _James was kneeling on the floor in front of his bed, his back turned to Sirius, as he shoveled his possessions into his trunk._

 _Sirius felt a chill steal over him. "Prongs—"_

 _Suddenly, James looked over his shoulder and fixed Sirius with a glare so cold that Sirius recoiled in shock._

 _For the rest of the evening, neither boy spoke a word._

Thus, Saturday afternoon found a very subdued Sirius Black descending the Hogwarts Express not with his friends, as per usual, but with his fourteen-year-old brother. In fact, the only person who had been in a worse mood than Sirius over the past few days was Snape, who had been sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore regarding Remus's lycanthropy and was not taking it well; Sirius had seen him storming down to the Slytherin dungeons after breakfast on Friday morning with a vicious glint in his eyes.

But even Snape's misery couldn't quite put Sirius out of his own, as he caught sight of his mother and father waiting together on the far end of the platform, away from the crowds. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Mr. Potter greet James with a warm hug and a clap on the back, and he tried not to feel too resentful as he drew closer to his own parents' hunched, impassive figures.

"Good afternoon, boys," Father said imperiously, shaking Regulus's hand and nodding at Sirius; Sirius resisted a scowl. "How was your term?"

"Excellent," Regulus exclaimed pompously, and he immediately leapt into a detailed explanation as to why Slytherin was likely to win the Inter-House Quidditch Cup that year.

Father and Mother hung onto Regulus's every word, as they led Regulus out of the station.

Sirius trailed bitterly along after them.


	4. The Final Straw

27 December 1975

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK, GET OUT OF BED _NOW!_ "

Sirius sat bolt upright in bed, staring blearily around. But before he had a chance to process his surroundings, the door to his bedroom flew open with a loud BANG, and his mother stormed inside, crackling with rage.

"You ungrateful, little swine!" she shrieked, smacking his shoulder. "Narcissa's wedding begins in half-an-hour! You were supposed to be ready to leave an hour ago!"

Sirius hurtled out of bed and ducked reflexively as his mother lunged towards him again. "STOP!" he bellowed, glaring fiercely down at her.

Mother's nostrils flared and her eyes flashed with fury—but Sirius had long-grown immune to her temper. "Get out of here," he snapped. "I'll be down in five minutes."

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue—or, perhaps, hit him again. She settled, however, for marching over to his dresser and yanking out a pair of stiff, navy blue dress robes, which she proceeded to fling directly at his face. Then, with a final withering look in his direction, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sirius didn't realize he was shaking with anger until he looked down and saw that his dress robes were trembling in his hands. Fighting back the infuriated growl building in his throat, Sirius quickly stripped off his pajamas and threw them onto his bed. Then, he heaved his dress robes over his shoulders and pulled them onto his body, bitterly smoothing out the stiff, blue material.

He was just about to exit the room when there came a soft tapping at his window. Sirius spun around. Felix was fluttering outside the glass, clutching a tiny scroll.

A rush of overwhelming happiness welled up in him. _Andromeda_. He had quite forgotten—in the midst of being shunned by his closest friends and being forced to return to his dreadful family home—that there was, in fact, one person in the Wizarding world who did not resent him.

Immediately, Sirius hastened to the window and allowed the owl to swoop into the room. Then, he swiftly untied the scroll of parchment from the owl's foot and unfurled it, flattening it with his palm.

 _Uncle Alphard let it slip in a letter that Bella was working with her husband. I put two and two together._  
 _I didn't know how to break it to you. I swear, I only just found out myself.  
_ _Are you actually surprised, Sirius? You know what our family condones.  
Destroy this letter after you read it.  
_ _—A_

Sirius stared at the short note for a long while, feeling his momentary burst of happiness slowly ebb away.

At last, he ripped the card of parchment into miniscule scraps and threw them under his dresser, stumping out of his bedroom and down the nearby staircase.

* * *

 _Prongs,_

 _I know this isn't my place, but I've been thinking about it nonstop for the past week, and I think you should forgive Padfoot for what he did. Sometimes, I forget how miserable his family makes him, but I just saw page thirteen of that stupid newspaper on my dad's desk this morning, and I remembered._

 _If Snape really was taunting him about them that night, Sirius was probably unhinged when he sent Snape to the Willow. I'm not saying I understand what he did, or approve of it in the slightest, but I've decided I can forgive him._

 _I hope you can too._

 _Moony_

James sighed loudly, flinging the letter onto his desk for the eighth time and collapsing backwards onto his bed.

It wasn't that he didn't want to forgive Sirius. _Of course he wanted to_ …but did Sirius really understand the gravity of what he had done? Did he understand that he had nearly _killed_ a student? Or was he just desperate to be back on speaking terms with his friends?

Did he genuinely believe that sending Snape to his demise had been justifiable?

The very thought sent a jolt of fear down James's spine. He did not want to believe, even for an instant, that he had befriended a coldblooded killer.

James stared up at the ceiling.

Then, he shook his head vigorously.

 _No. Absolutely not._

* * *

"Congratulations, Narcissa, darling," Mother gushed, bestowing her niece a beatific smile as she shook Lucius's hand. "Another fine marriage for the Black family, I must say."

"Thank you so much for coming, Aunt Walburga," Narcissa said earnestly, and Lucius nodded, kissing Mother's cheek. "We'll see you for New Year's Eve, won't we?"

"Absolutely," said Mother at once, beaming warmly at the newlyweds. It was with extraordinary effort that Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Walburga Black was a despicable excuse for a human being, but she was a tremendous actress.

As if on cue, Mother rounded on her sons, a spectacularly artificial smile plastered to her face. "Congratulate your cousin, boys," she ordered, nudging both Regulus and Sirius forward sharply.

"Congratulations, Cissy," Regulus said kindly, stepping forward to hug Narcissa, who looked pleased.

Sirius coughed uncomfortably, crossing his arms. "Congratulations," he muttered.

Narcissa turned to appraise him through slightly narrowed eyes. "Thank you," she said coolly. Then, rather abruptly, she looked at her husband. "Come, dear. I think I see Elijah and Yessenia Lestrange waiting to congratulate us on the other side of the hall."

Lucius took Narcissa's hand, and together, they navigated themselves through the swarming knot of well-wishers and towards the far end of the Beauregard Hotel's banquet hall. Sirius watched them go, skin crawling. Bellatrix had always been his least favorite cousin…but he had just remembered why Narcissa was a close second. Now, with Lucius Malfoy at her shoulder, she was the very essence of pure-blooded bigotry…

"…hopes that Lucius will soon join Bellatrix in the inner circle."

Sirius snapped his attention back onto his mother, who was now engrossed in a hushed conversation with Aunt Druella—Narcissa's mother. Regulus appeared to have wandered off. Heart racing slightly, Sirius edged closer to his mother, so that he could hear the two women more clearly.

"Yes, Elijah and Yessenia are very proud of their sons," Aunt Druella was whispering. "And of course, of their daughter-in-law," she added haughtily. "Bellatrix has proved invaluable to the Dark Lord, they tell me."

"Oh, you must be so pleased," Mother sighed. "Both of your daughters are thriving."

Sirius felt a surge of anger at the word 'both.' Andromeda's disappearance from the Black family tapestry had, it seemed, also erased every mind of her existence.

"I am pleased, indeed," Aunt Druella agreed. "But you mustn't lose faith, Walburga, dear. Your sons are still young. Regulus is already showing great promise—and even Sirius has hope, yet. I'm sure Bellatrix would be only too happy to lead him in the right direction, if he is so willing…"

Sirius hastily ducked away, feeling sick to his stomach. The _Dark Arts?_ With _Bellatrix?_ It was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard in his life…

But as he wandered aimlessly towards a deserted corner of the banquet hall, shaking his head, a cold, hard realization shot through him with such electricity that he nearly toppled over from the shock of it all.

His family genuinely expected him to join the ranks of Death Eaters. They genuinely expected him to marry a pure-blood woman and perpetuate the Black family ideals.

Slowly, Sirius lowered himself down onto a nearby chair, heart hammering against his ribs.

He had felt devastated and betrayed when Andromeda had run away from home, three years earlier. He had been bitter and resentful; the only family member he could stand to be around had left him to rot alone. But now…he didn't think he could possibly appreciate her sacrifice more. Because walking out on these people—his mother, his father, his brother—would render a ringing finality. It would mean goodbye. Forever.

In a split-second, Sirius made up his mind.

Straightening his shoulders, he glanced around the banquet hall, drinking in the scene. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan stood together by the bar, sipping wine with Lucius's parents. Narcissa and Lucius were chatting animatedly with Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange by the buffet. Mother and Aunt Druella were still deep in conversation in the center of the hall. And his uncles, his father, and his brother were eating together at a table not too far away, discussing a potential Black family Nogtail hunting trip to Norfolk for the summer.

On the surface, they were the picture of royalty—haughty, proud, and majestic. _They were the Blacks, after all_ , Sirius thought scornfully. _Toujours Pur_. But underneath the layers of regality and elegance, there was real evil brewing. And Sirius knew that it would only be a matter of time before they attempted to rope him into it.

 _Are you actually surprised, Sirius? You know what our family condones._

Sirius looked around the room, long and hard. This would be the last time he would ever see them all together, he decided. He held his breath, waiting for the faintest glimmer of apprehension to settle in.

None came.

Sirius crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, smiling slightly.

It was over. He was done.

It was over.

* * *

With a resounding CRASH, Sirius kicked open the door of his wardrobe and began shoveling clothes into his trunk, which already contained an untidy rubble of spellbooks, parchment, quills, and photographs. Felix was hooting irritably in his cage on the bed; every time Sirius slammed something shut, he perked up, peeked his head out from under his wing, and fixed his large, hazel eyes reproachfully in Sirius's direction.

But Sirius didn't care. He was filled with a wild, fervent emotion that was both completely familiar, and completely unfamiliar to him. He was barely conscious of what he was doing. All he knew was that he would soon be gone—gone from this treacherous home, from these toxic family members, and from their vindictive beliefs— _gone_ , from their stupid, poisonous expectations— _free_ , like Andromeda—gone—free— _done_ —

"What are you doing?"

Sirius jumped, swiveling around and shaking his hair out of his face. Regulus was standing in the doorway, his hand resting against the frame. Like Sirius, he was still wearing his navy blue dress robes, making him look even more like his elder brother than he normally did, with the same jet-black hair and bright gray eyes. But unlike Sirius's eyes, which were alight and frenzied, betraying every insane emotion he was feeling at the moment, Regulus's were cool and calculating.

"Leaving," Sirius said shortly, banging the lid of his trunk shut and hefting it upright.

Regulus was silent for a moment, watching his brother drag his cauldron out from under the bed. "They won't let you."

Sirius dumped the cauldron onto his bed next to Felix's cage and faced his brother, letting out a loud, incredulous bark of laughter. " _Let_ me?" he demanded. "Do you think I give a damn if they let me or not, Reg? I'm done! I'm finished with this disgusting family!"

Regulus's expression became very hard, his eyes closing off, and inexplicably, Sirius was reminded of Remus. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he turned away from his brother and proceeded to pick up his owl cage and cauldron.

Then, lifting his trunk with his other hand, he turned around once more to look at the younger boy. Regulus's blue-gray eyes were narrowed, now, but unlike Narcissa's, unlike Bellatrix's, unlike their own mother's, they weren't cold. They were angry, certainly. But they weren't cold.

"If you leave, that's it," he said quietly, fixing Sirius with a piercing look. "There's no coming back. They'll never let you come back, Sirius."

Sirius stared at his brother for a long moment. There was hope for Regulus. He wasn't like the rest. Not quite. At least, not yet.

"I know," Sirius said bluntly. "That's why I'm doing it. And if you knew what was good for you, you'd get the hell out of here, too."

Sirius waited for several seconds, but Regulus didn't say anything more, so Sirius stepped around him, stalked down the landing, and began thundering down the staircase. The trunk banged against each step as Sirius raced downwards, rattling the entire house. The noise had alerted the rest of the family. Kreacher skulked by the front door, half-bewildered, half-concerned. And Mother and Father were standing at the foot of the stairs. Father's face was expressionless, but Mother looked livid.

" _Sirius!_ " she shrieked. "What is the meaning of this?"

Sirius ignored her, pushing past his parents and towards the front door. Father crossed his arms and watched silently, as his wife clucked after Sirius, screeching a garble of insults and admonitions at the top of her lungs. She tried to stand in front of the door, blocking his way, but Sirius easily shoved her aside and flung it open.

He was halfway out the door, when he stopped, and turned back around, eyes flashing. Everyone in the house fell silent.

"You're sick and twisted, the lot of you," he spat. "If any of you had even the smallest speck of humanity left in you, you'd realize that everything you condone is _evil_ —and I'd throw myself off the Astronomy Tower before I let myself become anything like you."

And with that, he turned on his heel and marched out into the cold, dark December night, slamming the door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place shut behind him.

* * *

"James, darling, get the door, please," Mum mumbled sleepily, from where she was dozing off in her armchair. "It must be your uncle Caradoc. He mentioned something about stopping by on his way home from the Ministry."

James nodded, tossing aside the copy of _Seeker Weekly_ he was reading and jumping up from his perch on sofa. Running a hand through his hair, he yawned and ambled across the parlor, down the corridor, and into the foyer. Then, he pulled open the front door—and gasped loudly.

" _Sirius?_ "

Sirius Black, looking paler and more exhausted than James had ever seen him, was standing on the porch, shivering as the needle-sharp December wind dug into his skin. And on the stoop in front of him stood his Hogwarts trunk, his cauldron, and his owl cage. James stared down at the objects in shock for a fraction of a second, before looking back up at Sirius, mouth hanging open.

"James, I'm sorry," Sirius said in a strangled voice. "I messed up, and I've never felt worse about anything in my life. I let you down, I let Remus down, I let Peter down, and I almost let someone _die_ —all, for nothing." He paused, swallowing heavily. "I complain a lot about the things my family does, but what I did—it was just as bad." Clenching his jaw and straightening his shoulders, Sirius looked James straight in the eye. "I…I ran away from home," he added unnecessarily.

There were several moments of stunned silence, as James digested all of this information. He stared at his friend—his brother—for a long while, and Sirius held his gaze with just as much intensity, his expression betraying a burning mixture of regret and fear.

At last, James cleared his throat and reached down, picking up the trunk, the cauldron, and the cage, and pulling them all into the foyer. He looked at Sirius. "No, you didn't."

Sirius blinked, several times. "What?"

And then, for what felt like the first time in years, James smiled—a _real_ smile that filled his chest with an overwhelming warmth, radiating through his body, spreading from his fingers to his toes. Grinning, he reached out and grabbed Sirius's arm, dragging him into the house.

"No, you didn't run away from home," James told Sirius, seizing him in a headlock and mussing his hair. "You ran to it."

* * *

Author's Note:

They warm my heart, these two. :') I hope you enjoyed this. Drop me a line telling me what you think!

Ari


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